An Untried Path
by True Blackout
Summary: Draco Malfoy's life never was destined to go right, and this is the story of it. Warnings: Child abuse, self-harm, language.
1. Prologue: Scathed

**Disclaimer: **This is a work of fiction. To the best of my knowledge, none of the following ever happened. Other than any original characters, none of the characters herein are my property. This work is a figment of my imagination, and no profit is being reaped as the fruits of my labor. It is not my intention for any copyright infringement to occur.

**Warnings: **This fic does contain some more emotionally trying themes. Child abuse and self-mutilation does come-up, and may or may not serve as a trigger for some individuals, so please keep this in mind. Some minor coarse language may be used. Read at your own risk.

**Author's note:** Please read and review. This is the prologue, and therefore rather short. Please trust that most further chapters shall be much longer. If you have any questions, you can go ahead and ask in the comments, and I shall try my best to answer your questions unless they give away far too much of the story for my liking, or are of a very personal nature. I relish constructive criticism, but I beg of you not to flame me, for I fear I may be scorched in the blaze.

**An Untried Path**

Prologue: Scathed

From the moment of his birth, nothing in Draco Malfoy's life was ever destined to go right. His parents were willing servants of the most wretched wizard to walk the Earth in generations, and he was born just before the Dark Lord met his demise. His parents pleaded innocence, claiming their servitude to have been merely the result of being enchanted. Though no punishment befell them due to a lack of evidence of their willingness, the large reserves of gold the family held, and the high esteem the family had before been held in, his parents did truly fall from grace except for from those who themselves had been followers or supporters of the Dark Lord. In the years hence, Draco Malfoy endured a harsh life at home, with a father with a temper so virulent that all feared him and especially his young son who was the split image of him, and a mother who bore herself with only the semblance of grace, always uncaring for her only son's safety and well-being.

He survived; he endured. Yet that was all that could be said. Draco Malfoy was not an unscathed boy.

* * *

><p>At the age of eleven, Draco finally was allowed to leave the hellhole he called home for at the least the better part of the year. He could finally escape the all-too-knowing gaze of his father. Well, that was what Draco had hoped would occur. In his innocence, he did not stop to think of his father's influence in the magical community at large, and that his father's being a school governor of Hogwarts may indeed mean that he would never truly be out of harms way. Either way, he was on his way to Hogwarts, and he was happy. Nothing in his mind spelled apprehension. He only hoped he'd be in Slytherin or face the wrath of his father a thousand times over - hyperbole not included.<p>

This is the story of his life.


	2. Chapter One: First Moment

**Disclaimer: **This is a work of fiction. To the best of my knowledge, none of the following ever happened. Other than any original characters, none of the characters herein are my property. This work is a figment of my imagination, and no profit is being reaped as the fruits of my labor. It is not my intention for any copyright infringement to occur.

**Warnings: **This fic does contain some more emotionally trying themes. Child abuse and self-mutilation does come-up, and may or may not serve as a trigger for some individuals, so please keep this in mind. Some minor coarse language may be used. Read at your own risk.

**Author's note:** Chapter one! Please read and review. If you have any questions, you can go ahead and ask in the comments, and I shall try my best to answer your questions unless they give away far too much of the story for my liking, or are of a very personal nature. I relish constructive criticism, but I beg of you not to flame me, for I fear I may be scorched in the blaze.

**An Untried Path**

Chapter One: First Moment

When Draco offered his hand to the Boy Who Lived, all he wished for was a friend. Unfortunately for Draco, that action did not go the way he had planned, and he was rejected. Afterwards, Draco sat in his train compartment with two uncaring brutes, wondering what in the world he had done wrong. All he had done was act as his father Lucius would have in that situation, and . . . well, Father certainly always seemed to get what _he_ wanted. He couldn't help but think that if he were the friend of Harry Potter, he could finally gain favour in the eyes of his father. Alas, it was not destined to be.

Draco knew that he should forget the entire ordeal now that he was in his own compartment and free to speak of inconsequential musings, yet he was incapable of stopping his mind from wondering what had gone wrong. He had offered to help Potter to learn the ways of their fellow wizardingfolk, but his attempt had backfired and he feared that he may have just made a powerful enemy. Perhaps Lucius was right, and something was horribly and incorrigibly wrong with him, and he really was a sorry excuse for a son and human being. Draco again attempted to pull his mind away from those dark crevasses of thought, but it was a case of "don't think of purple elephants," and the thoughts continued to badger him.

"Hey, mate. What's up with you?" Goyle inquired - or rather, grunted.

"Oh, nothing." Draco thought up an excuse for his pensive behaviour. "I suppose I'm just a bit apprehensive."

Crabbe screwed up his face in concentration. "App- App-re-wuh-"

"Never mind!" Draco forced himself not to roll his eyes in distaste. The brutish pair were most definitely not his friends. Lucius had told him that they would be useful to him in the precise way that their parents were useful to Lucius to this day and had been since long before any of the three were born. Naturally Draco had acquiesced to his father's request, both to escape his anger, and because there was the possibility that the imbeciles may indeed be of use to him, . . . if he could manage to put up with their severe cases of cranial thickness.

Distracting them further, a woman chose that moment to pull open the sliding door of the compartment, offering them sweets from a cart she had with her. Crabbe and Goyle immediately jumped to their feet, eager to stuff their faces with the goods. Draco took his time in rising from his seat, finding he had not much of an appetite. Apprehension and fear seamed to do something weird to a person's stomach.

* * *

><p>Draco found he really was growing most and more apprehensive as time wore on. In all actuality, he felt a bit queasy, as if he might vomit if he merely opened his mouth. If he wasn't sorted into Slytherin, Lucius would be infuriated. At that moment as Draco stepped off the Hogwarts Express, Draco was fearful that his father may very well murder him in a cold-blooded rage if he weren't a Slytherin like every Malfoy before him. He only hoped that such a death would be accidental, but his hopes were low.<p>

In very little time at all, Professor of Transfiguration and Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall was lining up the fearful first years before a decrepit and ancient hat upon a stool in the forefront of a great dining hall. Each first year in turn was to sit on the stool with the hat on their head, and the hat would speak aloud what house they would spend their years at Hogwarts. All of the older students were seated at long dining tables segregated by house, waiting for the Sorting to begin. Draco attempted to avert his gaze from these students, feeling incredibly self-conscious, instead staring pointedly at the intricately wrought ceiling of the Great Hall, realising that it was a mirror image of the sky outside. Long before he was ready to step up to the stool, and halfway through the alphabetical listing of the students' names, Draco was called forth.

He quailed underneath the gaze of the entire hall, only one thought coursing through his frenzied brain: "Slytherin. Please, if there really is a g-d, let me be in Slytherin!" Then the Sorting Hat was falling down upon his head.

"Well, if you wish . . . " The hat murmured in his head, startling him. Less than two seconds after the brim of the hat first obscured his view of the dining hall, one word rang out loud and clear. "SLYTHERIN!"

Relief washed over Draco for the first time in days. He was in Slytherin, as per his parents' wishes.


	3. Chapter Two: Impressions

**Disclaimer: **This is a work of fiction. To the best of my knowledge, none of the following ever happened. Other than any original characters, none of the characters herein are my property. This work is a figment of my imagination, and no profit is being reaped as the fruits of my labor. It is not my intention for any copyright infringement to occur.

**Warnings: **This fic does contain some more emotionally trying themes. Child abuse and self-mutilation does come-up, and may or may not serve as a trigger for some individuals, so please keep this in mind. Some minor coarse language may be used. Read at your own risk.

**Author's note:** Chapter two! I apologize for the long wait. As always, please read and review. If you have any questions, you can go ahead and ask in the comments, and I shall try my best to answer your questions unless they give away far too much of the story for my liking, or are of a very personal nature. Constructive criticism is welcome, but please - no flames!

**An Untried Path**

Chapter Two: Impressions

Draco's first class at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall. This class the Slytherins shared with no others, resulting in a somewhat unpleasant experience for Minerva McGonagall was the head of Gryffindor house, ad it was no secret that she resented their Slytherin counterparts with a passion fit to wage a thousand bloody wars. Nobody in their right mind would want to cross that woman and get on her bad side, but that goal was even more difficult to keep with if you're a scared Slytherin first year who has not a clue how to get to the classroom in the first place.

Poor Draco was completely incapable of finding the Transfiguration classroom in a timely fashion, even though he made it his priority to leave breakfast nearly ten entire minutes before most other even began to think of leaving the Great Hall. Crabbe and Goyle were of no help to Draco in the slightest, but rather more of a nuisance in having with him, as they had gifts for concocting some of the worst ideas he had ever heard in his life - thus causing them to become even more hopelessly lost in the labyrinth of the large medieval castle's intersecting corridors and pathways until a fifth-year Hufflepuff prefect on his way to Charms took pity on them and pointed them clear across the castle and down several flights of stairs.

Twelve minutes after the bell signaling the beginning of the first class of the year rang, Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle finally sauntered into the classroom and made their way to the only empty seats. Draco kept his gaze down, sure his face was tinged with pink in embarrassment for all the occupants of the room were following them with their eyes. As he sat down and looked at the fore of the room, Draco could see Professor McGonagall fixing him with a death glare. So much for making a good first impression. He quickly averted his gaze in shame. This was one thing he could never tell his father about - Lucius was all about first impressions.

The rest of the day continued in misery. He had wanted to be early to his first class, he had wanted to be on time, and by G-d, why did nothing ever go the way he planned it? Draco knew a lot of his current issues could be solved if he were to rid himself of Crabbe and Goyle, but if Lucius knew he wasn't keeping them close at hand, all Hell would surely break loose. Draco was not an idiot. No, Crabbe and Goyle were there for a reason, and that was to keep his father at bay.

Herbology was thankfully a much more bearable ordeal. Draco did somehow manage to sustain a bite from a strange plant with a name he was incapable of pronouncing correctly, but Professor Sprout had told him not to worry for the plant wasn't poisonous. It just enjoyed biting anything and everything that came with its reach, which was exactly what Draco needed - yet another entity that thirsted for his blood and wanted to hurt him.

Only four words could accurately describe his reaction when he stepped into his first Defense Against the Dark Arts began: pure and utter revulsion. Professor Quirrell was a bit of a joke - the man was terrified of his own shadow! The room reeked of garlic, making its occupants feel nauseous by the end of the lesson, and Professor Quirrell was nearly incoherent due to stuttering so much. All they did the entire class was read out of the coursebook, "The Dark Forces," and when someone felt the need to ask a question, Quirrell seemed entirely incapable of answering.

Lunch was a much-needed reprieve from the monotony of classes. Despite still having not managed to shake-off Crabbe and Goyle, Draco could not help but be relieved for any kind of break. A girl by the name of Pansy Parkinson with a hard face and an upturned nose had seemed to really taken a liking to him. Those sitting around them were apparently a bit disgusted by Pansy being so obvious in her fancying Draco and in her attempts to woo him. Draco was admittedly somewhat disconcerted by Pansy's fawning, but he made no attempts to stop her. He wasn't used to receiving such positive attention, much less from pretty girls, and hey, it was kind of nice.

After lunch, only two classes remained: History of Magic, and Charms. History of Magic was taught by the ghost Professor Binns, who merely lectured and read from the selected text aloud a sleep-inducing monotonous willed himself to keep his eyelids from drooping, for he was determined to stay awake and take halfway-decent notes on the subject. How else would he get good marks? Charms, on the other hand, was actually quite enjoyable. Professor Flitwick was a tiny wizard, and though he was a bit odd, he seemed to be very nice, with few preconceived notions about any of the students.

The rest of the week passed without incident. Draco couldn't see the point of Astronomy, which the Slytherins would attend every Thursday night. Potions was a bit of fiasco, but not on his part - Professor Snape, head of Slytherin house, absolutely loathed the Gryffindors, who they shared the lesson with. Draco was delighted to find out that Potter had become a favourite target of Snape to pick-on. Draco couldn't help but snigger at Potter's embarrassment.

Another week came and went, and suddenly - viola! it was Thursday, and flying lessons with the Gryffindors had arrived. Marvelous. Draco knew he was a good hand on a broom, and he simply couldn't wait to see the look on Potter's face when he saw him showing-off on a broom. Seeing as Potter had been raised by a gaggle of inept muggles, Draco also knew he would have a nice laugh at Potter royally making a fool of himself on a broom.

Unfortunately for Draco, it appeared that nothing involving Potter ever went as he hoped or wished. The smug look on his face vanished when Potter joined him in the sky, showing himself to also be a spare hand on a broomstick. He was a natural! To makes matters worse, when he threw the Longbottom twit's Remembrall in the air and dared Potter to catch the thing, Potter merely made a fifty-food dive and he did just that - not even killing himself in the process. But then McGonagall was there, and boy, was she infuriated! With only Potter still in the sky when she arrived and Draco long since having sped towards the ground, Draco was sure the Boy-Who-Lived was in for the punishment of his life. A smug look again alighted Draco's face. If he was lucky, Potter might get expelled, and Draco would never have to deal with him again. He grinned in eager, spiteful anticipation.

**Question for readers:** Do you want this to stay being the books from Draco's point of view, or would you rather me stray from cannon a little bit more? I do plan on making this darker, and it won't be entirely cannons. What are your thoughts?


End file.
